All Consuming
by Penmora Zenith
Summary: The kiss that freed Christine and Raoul doesn't take place. Christine agrees to marry Erik in order to spare Raoul's life, and therefore is not entirely happy living with Erik.-CURRENTLY IN THE PROCESS OF BEING EDITED-
1. Entrapment

Been thinking a lot of this story over time, and especially so recently. Life has changed quite a bit…graduated college, started a full time job, got married, bought a house. Interests have changed as well, which is why I have written in years, but given my dissatisfaction with how this story unfolded, I feel I owe it to the readers to edit and re-write this so that it's, well, more realistic for one thing. I hope you enjoy the new elements of this story and grant me patience with likely infrequent updates.

* * *

Disclaimer: Despite the fact that most Phans know who wrote the original Phantom of the Opera, I still have to say that I don't own any of the characters.

PG…in this scene, the kiss that sets Christine and Raoul free doesn't take place. This had originally been written based on the movie but…my tastes have seen gravitated more towards Leroux's Phantom. In all likelihood, this will follow the movie premise *reluctant sigh* but will have Leroux Erik's deformity.

* * *

Christine

"_You try my patience, make your choice!"_

I stared in stupefied horror as my fiancé was bound to the gate that served as the entrance to Erik's gothic cavernous home. Erik himself was taunting me with the lasso tied around Raoul's neck, and savoring the words that he was about to hear. I wracked my brain for a way in which Raoul and I could escape together without harm, but after all that had taken place, my mind couldn't possibly think clearly. I tried as best as I could to calm my quivering nerves and hold my composure, but I found it impossible.

My emotions betrayed me as I sobbed my response. "Alright, Erik, I can't fight you anymore. Let Raoul go and I will surrender myself to you." I hung back against the wall, ashamed of myself. Erik released his hold on the ropes, and dragging himself from the dark churning water, pulled the lever that raised the portcullis.

"Christine, please! You can't spend the rest of your days down here with _him_!" Raoul pleaded futilely.

"Just go, Raoul, there is nothing more you can do," I replied solemnly as I sunk to the floor. The lace and silk from the wedding dress spread itself around me, and I buried my head in the immense fabric. I prayed that when I lifted my head I would be safe in my dormitory bed, having just awoken from a twisted nightmare, but Raoul's voice snapped me back to my cruelly fated reality.

"I promise I will come back for you, my love. I will stop at nothing until you are safely removed from here," he asserted. Then turning to Erik he spat, "This is not the last time you will be seeing me, mark my words, _Phantom_ ." Raoul clambered into the gondola and slowly paddled his way from my prison. Before turning the corner and out of view, he turned back to me and blew me a kiss. I could do nothing but stare helplessly as my love, my savior, rowed away from me, possibly forever.

* * *

Erik

I was growing weary of the games these two were playing. I despised the boy, and more so, his love of Christine, _my _Christine. Having taken advantage of every luxury given him, I was not about to let him have her, only to squander what beauty and innocence she had. Absolutely not.

I knew Christine would give in. What choice did she really have, she wasn't that selfish where she would buy her freedom with bloodshed. When she announced her decision, I couldn't help but smile, though I had also been looking forward to the torture and murder of the younger de Chagny. I untied the boy; I refuse to address him by his Christian name, and raised the barrier extending freedom once more. He climbed into my personal handcrafted gondola with great difficulty, and promised uselessly that he would come back.

"_Not if I have anything to do with it,"_ I thought spitefully.

I found Christine crumpled underneath her dirty wedding gown, and helped her to her feet. Her eyes and cheeks were tear-streaked, and I felt a pang of guilt at seeing her in such a disheveled, ineloquent condition. By all means I wanted her to be happy, but I knew it would be difficult to show her that I could make her the happiest woman in the whole of France. I had denied her her childhood friend, her fiancée, her lover, and it would take a great deal of effort and coercion for me to be her Angel of Music once more. But before that, above all, she needed to know now that she was _mine_.

"Well, my dear, I can't say that I am disappointed by your decision. We have had a trying night, why don't you retire to bed." I offered, trying as best to be supportive despite what she would construe to be cruelty.

She turned to me with a look that I had never her seen cast upon anyone, least of all me. It wasn't a look of anger, but of heartbreak and anguished pain. "Why would you have me make a decision like that?" she asked softly. Without waiting for a reply, she headed the bedroom I had decorated solely with her in mind and slammed the door. I could hear a muffled cry before it was abruptly silenced, possibly by burying her face in a pillow.

By no means was I delighted to see her in this condition, but I also felt that I deserved her more than the boy. She already felt great emotion for me, not quite love, but a strong fondness, and I knew that she would come to love me in return when she would see that I would deny her nothing. At least nothing within reason. I would whisk her away to every corner of the globe, build a magnificent monument to her, teach her to sing so that God Himself would weep at hearing the beauty emanating from her perfect mouth. But I would refuse her the opportunity to see my biggest nemesis and competition.

I retired to my own bedroom, though one could hardly call it that. There was no bed, only an organ, candles, a dressing chamber and a coffin in which I slept. The stone walls radiated the cold, despite the large black silk cloth that was draped in swag across the walls. I lay down, pulled the lid on enough so that I was covered but had enough room to breathe, and nestled into an unpleasant sleep filled with regret and terrifying nightmares.


	2. Delicate Complacency

This chapter is rated PG-13. I also forgot to mention that I was also heavily inspired by Phantom as well.

* * *

Erik

When I awoke, she was still fast asleep. I changed from my Persian sleeping clothes to my usual formal black attire before presenting myself to my Christine. I tested the knob on the door and found that it was unlocked. Cautiously I peered into the room and saw that her face was no longer streaked with the red lines of her tears. Instead she lay with her mahogany curls spread around her like angel's wings. I felt the urge to kiss her, and since she would soon be my wife it would be my right, but I neither wanted to disturb her slumber nor give her a cause for alarm. I gently pulled the door shut, and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I prepared breakfast for us in my small kitchenette.

I rarely ate, only once every few days, so my cupboards were not stocked with much food, but pulling from here and there, I was able to create a concoction that I hoped proved worthy to appease her appetite. I had thought that she might rouse from her sleep with the scents that were wafting from the kitchenette, but rather than let her food get cold, I chose to awaken her.

Now I have survived many an encounter with questionable people. I survived a mother's loathing, the espionage within the royal palace of a shah and his entourage, and even being poisoned, but now I was genuinely afraid of what Christine's reaction would be. Would she gouge my poisoned skin with her nails when she opened her eyes? Would she simply refuse to join me and ultimately starve?

I tentatively stepped inside her room, and upon hearing my footstep, she rolled over and yawned. She was stunning even in sleep. When opening her eyes it took her a few seconds to realize where she was, and when she did so, her mood clearly indicated her displeasure. She lingered in her bedchamber for a few minutes before I acknowledged her with words.

Refusing to cower in her displeasure, I merely said, "Breakfast is ready. If you wish to join me, that is your prerogative. If not, you will starve, and it makes no difference to me," and with that, I left her by herself.

A few minutes later after making her appearance more presentable, she sat down in one of the oak chairs and dug hungrily into her meal.

"What is this?" she asked inquisitively while shoving a forkful into her mouth. As upset as she was with me, her empty stomach spoke for her.

"Something I learned to make while I was in Persia. The exotic spice you taste is called saffron. It is highly prized and very expensive. You should feel privileged that you can eat food with which saffron has been infused."

"Indeed," she replied ungratefully. She cleared her plate in a very unladylike manner, and I laughed from behind my mask. _"I wonder what kind of wife she would make, and how tidy a home we would keep if her cleaning skills match those of her eating habits,"_ I mused.

She cleaned her plate and I directed her to the green marble washroom where she would be able to bathe and freshen up. In the meantime, I worked on plans for remodeling our little house in the alcove of the fifth basement. I intended to move into Christine's bedroom and turn my own dormitory into a room solely for composing. When I chose the bowels of the Opera Populaire as my domain, I had only factored myself into my architectural plans. I don't need much room, though, and this was far too cramped a home for two people, so changes would need to be made very soon.

I had left a clean dress for her hanging up on the door, and when she emerged, I was struck at how lovely she looked in blue. It accented her small waist, and though it plunged low enough to see the tips of her breasts, it was still modest enough for a humble girl such as Christine. Though her hair was still wet, she had tied it up in a white ribbon, and her face was flushed from the warm water. I could certainly get used to looking upon her every day!

I chose this moment to drop the bombshell on her. "Christine, we will be married tomorrow when I can secure a priest and ensure that the chapel in the opera house is unused."

Christine stared at me in unabashed horror. She knew she would be prisoner down here for quite some time, but she did not know that she would be forced into _wedlock_ with her captor! The rosy flush that had been so becoming on her a few moments previous had now drained and her face took on the appearance of snow. She sat down in the kitchen chair so as not to faint. It took a few moments before she spoke, and when she did so, she stood up to state her defense.

"I am betrothed to Raoul, and though I am forced down here against my will, I still wish to remain his and his only. I stayed, why must I be your prisoner in marriage as well as in your damnable tomb?" She dared return my steely gaze, and though I gave her credit for it, I also thought it was a foolish maneuver.

I slowly, menacingly, approached her, forcing her back against the rock wall behind her. "My dear, do not be so impetuous with me. You chose to stay here of you own accord, and only you can hold yourself accountable for that. As for your impertinent nature, I can think of a thousand and one ways in which to break you. However, I would not want to ruin such a delicate soul, therefore I have no intention of exercising those methods. I will not, however, have you dictate what I am and am not to do with you. We will be married, and when we are, as my wife, you will submit to me!"

Her voice turned cold. "And what makes you think I would remain subservient to you?"

I grabbed her wrist and noted with peculiarity that it had turned ice cold. "Because if you leave, you will be lost amidst the traps, the flooded canals, the maze of corridors and the torture chamber. Because you wouldn't dare venture out on your own. And because you love me just enough to stay." At that point, my compassion took over and my demeanor softened considerably. "Christine, I could make you so happy. I would do anything for you, give you anything you desired. Please welcome me into your heart."

"How can I welcome you in when you have no heart in return? The heart of which you speak, Erik, is just a black pit of despair which is where you draw your malice, your cruelty and your hatred. I can't love you because despite what you say, you are incapable of love!" She swung around to leave me, but I grabbed her, and forcing her to face me, I swiftly pressed my lips upon hers and kissed her fiercely, passionately.

"I am quite capable of showing you just what love is," I murmured before taking up her lips once more. Though she resisted at first, the pheromones took over and she felt herself swooning over the delightful sensation that flooded her body and made her cheeks pink with desire. Returning the kiss, she flung her arms around my neck and pressed herself closer to me. Inspired by Christine's show of emotion, I let me lips travel delicately across her neck and collarbone, savoring each pleasurable moan escaping from her lips.

_"I hope I can end all our disagreements this way,"_ I mused. We remained joined in our blissful state for a few moments, tasting each other while struggling to keep our wits. Despite the urgency in which I wanted to prematurely exercise my husbandly rights, I broke the passionate embrace.

She tried to hide her disappointment from being parted, but her eyes betrayed her. Panting, I said simply, "I refuse to take your innocence before our wedding night." I left her there in the kitchen to contemplate her thoughts while I threw on my heavy black cloak and crossed the lake passage to the Parisian surface.

* * *

Christine

I awoke with the feeling of total comfort, and with the soft cotton sheets wrapped around me, I was quite content lying there for the better part of the day. It took me a minute before I realized that I didn't have sheets of this quality on my bed, and opening my eyes suddenly, I noted that I was still in Erik's labyrinth. I jerked my head around and noted him leaning casually by the door. The nightmare of the previous evening flooded back to me, and a scowl crossed my face. He tried luring me out with the promise of food, but when he added that he didn't care if I starved, I knew that he was probably serious. My stomach growled, indicating that it should be subdued, so grabbing a brush off the beautiful teak vanity, I made me appearance more suitable.

A few minutes later when I crossed into the kitchen, he was just finishing the small amount of food that he'd allotted himself. The smell was exquisite, and my mouth watered at the mound of sustenance that he placed before.

"I didn't know that you were a chef," I said politely.

"I learned from Nadir some specialties when we were still living in Persia," he added distractedly. He was busily sketching out designs on a scrap piece of paper, though I couldn't make out what he scribbling. I hungrily devoured the rest of my breakfast, and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. Erik thoughtfully hung a new dress outside the door so I wouldn't have to change back into the dirty wedding gown.

The bathroom was stunning with everything laid out in jade colored marble, even the bathtub, and accents of finely cut glass to make everything reflect and sparkle. It was as though I was in a palace rather than a dark corner of the basement underneath the Paris Opera. I disrobed and luxuriated in the warm soapy water, thankful for this small distraction from Erik. As I relaxed, I contemplated my predicament.

_"If I stay with Erik, he will deny me nothing, and he will do anything to make me happy…."_ I reflected sadly. _"I wonder if I beg hard enough, if he will permit me to be freed. Maybe I can convince him to let me see Raoul, and then he and I can run away together, away from Paris and this tragedy forever."_ I stood from the bath as my fingers and toes started to wrinkle, and drying myself off with the fine linen, I proceeded to dress in the gorgeous navy gown that he had purchased for me. I didn't have a corset to wear with it, but I also wasn't going to be appearing in public anytime soon either.

I emerged and found Erik still enveloped in whatever he was doing. He glanced up at me, and I noticed for a split second that a slight smile had crossed his disgusting mask-less face. His face then returned to its stony demeanor, and as he got up with a start, his chair made an awful scraping sound against the bare rock floor. He strode towards me, and instinctively I prepared myself for a blow, physical or otherwise.

"Christine, we will be married tomorrow when I can secure a priest and ensure that the chapel in the opera house is unused."

I felt my heart explode. I was never going to see Raoul again. Erik would never let me see him if I was his betrothed, and he would see to it that Raoul would never find his way back to the fifth cellar. I could feel the color drain from my face, and I swiftly fell into a chair before I fainted. I knew I was trapped, but I had to fight for myself.

"Why should I agree to marry you? _Why? _You were my Angel of Music, and now you are my jailor! Why must I submit to your will! Why must I sacrifice my freedom, my dignity and my love to appease you! Why can't you just let me be happy with Raoul!" I couldn't control the tears that were streaming down my face, but that didn't stop my onslaught. "I _will not_ marry you, Erik, the _'Phantom of the Opera!'_ I gave you my mind blindly."

We fought heatedly, him threatening me and demanding that I serve him, he being my husband and master, and I argued that he was incapable of any good human emotion, least of all love. Suddenly, I felt his arms upon mine, and his lips crushing my own. At first I struggled, frightened and eager to remove myself from his attack. He held tighter, forcing my lips open with his tongue, and ravaging the interior of my mouth. I felt myself succumbing to this oral rape, and losing control of my conscience, returned the kiss fervently. His hands drifted from violently caressing my hair, to scratching at the small of my back and at last came to rest on my hips, pulling tightly on them. The power of seduction took over, and as a prisoner, I surrendered fully.

As swiftly as it began, Erik ended it sharply. He straightened his mask and dress shirt, and I could see that his face was bright pink from the passion shared. "Enough of that for now, I need not jeopardize your virginity before our wedding night," he gasped.

Wordlessly he grabbed his heavy black velvet cape and disappeared off into oblivion. Mystified, I had no idea where he was going, nor when he would return, so I grabbed Madame Bovary from his extensive library and nestled myself into a leather armchair.

As I was finishing page thirty-two, I heard terrible hissing sound, and thinking something in the kitchen had sprung a leak, I set the book down and ventured over. As I exited the room, a bundle of fluff was in my way, blocking my path. I soon realized this was the source of the hissing. _"I didn't know Erik had a cat!"_ The cat clearly had no intention of being friendly, so I returned to the chair and continued reading until Erik returned home.

* * *

Erik

I had risked the streets of Paris in broad daylight to seek out a priest who would conduct the wedding ceremony on such short notice, and paid him handsomely for his effort. I was reluctant to seek him out after my ordeals with Father Mansart when I was a child, but knew that only with a priest could God's unfair gaze recognize the marriage of Christine and I. However, this priest was easy to persuade. With seven thousand francs, I was not only able to convince him to perform the ceremony, but also that witnesses were not needed, and I would forge the signatures of my good friend Nadir Khan and Madame Antoinette Giry.

I returned home to find my beloved reading a book while Ayesha sat perched in the doorway, licking her paws absentmindedly. I crouched to run my fingers through her beautiful Siamese fur, and looking up at me, she purred contentedly. Christine, hearing this change in the cat's tone, looked up.

"That damned cat has been hissing at me for over an hour," she said with contempt.

I had never heard her use such vulgar language but I chose to ignore her comment about my beloved cat. "I have a priest secured for tomorrow. Everything is all set for the blessed event to celebrate our love, my dear." The last sentence was dripping with sarcasm, and Christine scowled at me.

"I don't love you," she said simply.

"A few hours ago you seemed quite willing to couple with me, what is with the change in attitude so suddenly, I mon ange?" I replied coolly as I entered the room. I sat on the arm of the chair so that I could taunt her as I delicately stroked her hair and the side of her face.

She blushed at the memory, but refused to surrender. Sheflung my hand away, and getting up, retreated to privacy of her sheer bedchamber, throwing herself down on the bed.

"If you like, I can arrange for the priest to arrive tonight. Perhaps a wedding would brighten your spirits," I added maliciously.


	3. The Ceremony

"_I can't wait to get next to you, I just can't leave you alone…Only you can make me feel_..._" _Ashanti-Only You

* * *

Erik

I would have been more than eager to make her my wife that night, that very minute, but as she continued to mourn her freedom in the solace of her bedchamber, I had a wedding aria to finish composing. I suppose I could have used the piece from _Don Juan Triumphant _when the lovers finally consummate their love for each other, but I felt I needed something better suited for the occasion, something original that Christine would fall in love with the first time it rang in her virginal ears.

After spending what seemed like hours at the organ, I had decided that I should probably prepare dinner, mainly for Christine's sake. I knew not whether she would choose to eat with me, or eat at all for that matter, but I felt I should extend the gesture nonetheless. I am already a skeleton; I don't need one for a wife.

Once I prepared a light meal of filet mignon and a few vegetables, I went to her room to inform her that dinner was prepared. She silently nodded, and setting down the daguerreotype of Raoul that she had been admiring, she joined me for dinner. We ate wordlessly for about five minutes in an uncomfortable quietness before she timidly asked, "So when is the wedding?"

She sounded afraid of the answer, so I calmly stated that it would take place the following night at seven pm in the chapel with which she was greatly acquainted. Though she was not pleased with the imminence of the next twenty-four hours, she was placid in that at least it bought her more time. Despite appearances, I knew that she was still trying to contemplate an escape plan, or that she was hoping that her _Raoul_ would rescue her at the last possible minute. My battles with the boy were not yet over, in essence they had only just begun, and I was eager for him to set foot once more in my subterranean lair. I had to laugh and feel sympathetic all at the same time, though I knew that my pity would not win her the freedom that she longed for. It was time for me to get what _I_ wanted in my life. I was approaching the age of fifty, practically an old man compared to her youthful vitality, but I would not, _could not_, give in to her release.

When our dinner had been fully consumed and the kitchenette tidied, I invited her to sing music with me. "What shall I play for you, my dear?" I asked.

Christine sighed, and though she sang _Faust_ with great beauty, only I could detect the bitter despair that infiltrated her voice. I dismissed her to bed early so that she could be well rested and prepared for the big event that was to take place the following evening.

The majority of the night I spent pacing around my library. _"How did I muster up the courage to attempt something this cunning and deceitful? Who was I to deny Christine the happiness she so deserved? Who was I to come in the way of her romance with Raoul de Chagny, one of the wealthiest men in all of Paris? How did I actually end up enacting this maniacal plan?"_ I buried my head in my hands, knowing that it was not too late, but at the same time way past the point of no return.

_"I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge…"_

I wanted Christine in so many ways. I wanted to sing with her, share each day blissfully absorbed in music together, and retreat back to our marriage bed so that we might physically enact the passion transferred from the words we had just sung. I wanted to share the rest of my life with her, a life that seemed to be growing shorter and shorter each day. Easily within a year she could be left a widow, in which time she would be free to seek out her Viscomte and live happily ever after.

I must have fallen asleep on the sofa for when I awoke, I saw Christine standing above me in her white nightdress, her messy curls framing her face so that she truly looked the part of an angel. "Mon Cherie, what could possibly be the matter for you to leave your bedchamber and seek me out?"

"It's four in the morning and…I-I couldn't sleep," she stammered. "I wanted to speak to you about…about…th-the wedding." I sat straight up, readjusted my mask and beckoned for her to continue. "Erik, I have feelings for you, feelings that I can't explain, but I know that I don't love you as much as I love Raoul. If you let me go, I promise I would continue to see you on a weekly basis. I promise to always be your willing student and friend. I promise to think of you daily and keep you in my prayers."

At that last remark, I could only let out a cruel laugh. "God has never looked upon me with favor, so I should think praying for me would not be necessary. As for your pleas, they fall upon deaf ears. You had your choice, you had many choices. I warned you to stay away from gentlemen callers, particularly the Viscomte. I sternly warned you against singing when you are of ill health. I warned you not to remove my mask. You have disobeyed all these commands like a curious, selfish child, so you must be punished accordingly. But like all punishments, this is not to last forever because my health is draining day by day, so you may find yourself a widow before you reach twenty. Now come, darling, do you wish me to read you a story from the _Rubaiyat_ so that you will be able to sleep?"

She agreed fairly quickly, and gathering the large jewel covered book, we headed back to her bedroom where I sat on the edge of the bed reading quietly until I heard her gentle breathing. Once I was right next to her, I painfully noticed the practical invisibility of her nightdress and the way her breasts rose and fell rhythmically in her sleep. I fled the room before I satiated my sexual appetite on her petite unconscious body. I comforted myself with the notion that she would be wife in less than twenty-four hours and with that, I would be able to make love to her at my discretion. I felt myself stirring with desire at the mere thought of our bodies writhing together in that most passionate of embraces, and banishing the thought from my mind, I headed back to the sanctity of my bedchamber.

* * *

Christine

I awoke late the following morning feeling surprisingly refreshed and invigorated. When I sat up in bed I saw that Erik had carefully laid out the gown I was to be wearing later that evening, and my heart sank at the realization that I did actually have to go through with this ordeal. I couldn't deny that I loved Erik in some sense, but I knew that it wasn't the type of love shared between a husband and wife, more like a student who has extreme regard for a teacher of some sort. I also realized that Raoul had not yet come back to forever drag me away from this demented cavern of solemnity. There was still time, of course, for him to return me to safety aboveground, but as the hours ticked by from when this whole situation began, I was starting to lose hope.

I could smell the food that Erik was cooking for breakfast, so I brushed my hair and put on my robe for when he arrived. He did just as I was fastening the last few buttons, and we walked in silence to the kitchen, my bare feet slapping on the cold marble floor. Like a gentleman, he pulled the chair out for me, and then set before me a plate of scrambled eggs, toast and sausage. I was nervous about the day, and upon glancing at my watch I noted that I only had seven hours of my freedom left. Granted I wasn't truly free at the present time, but the chains would be even more securely clamped upon me once those dreaded words were uttered.

_I do_.

I didn't have to say them. Those two tiny words, three letters, two syllables that in all other contexts of a sentence were easy to say, but at a time like this would be the greatest challenge of my life. Motivated by Erik's temper, I knew that I would have to say them in order to save the priest and myself. If I were to refuse him and embarrass him at the wedding alter….

"My dear, you have barely touched your breakfast, and you will need strength for today is a big day. Are you ill?"

I brushed his concerning hand away. "I am fine, well, as fine as I can be on the day in which you seal my doom."

Erik laughed menacingly, which sent shivers down my spine. "Honestly, Christine, I think that you are looking at this situation in entirely the wrong light. You have come freely to me for some time now, so it is apparent that you enjoy spending time with me. We have common interests such as music, art and knowledge. And can you really deny the passion that was sparked between us yesterday?" With that, he ran his nimble fingers down the side of my cheek and a tear trickled in his wake. He jerked his hand away and shoving the chair out from underneath him, stood up angrily. "I grow weary of your dramatics, my dear, I really do. Accept your fate with me; your precious Raoul will not be here to rescue you like in the fairytales you so love to indulge in. I am to be your husband in mind, body, spirit and heart until death do us part. Those words are so ironic, aren't they, Christine? I already have the appearance of a corpse, yet you will still be married to me!"

"You may have my body, Erik, but you will never have more than that. You are too selfish to understand anything else, anything that even with your magical powers you cannot attain. My compassion and devotion are two things that you cannot magically conjure up, no matter what spells or incantations you may mumble."

He strode towards me with a cocky swagger in his black dress trousers, tall boots and laced shirt. If he was not about to violently threaten me, I would have actually thought that he was handsome in sort of a strange way. He came up beside me, and opening his palm so that I could see it was empty, he ran it behind my ear and seemingly pulled out another gold ring. Though I was already wearing the one he had given me while we were still teacher and pupil, this new one was elaborately adorned with sapphires, opals and diamonds. I had only a quick chance to glance at it before he threw it lightly in the air, and snatching it, pocketed it in his trousers. "I can make anything disappear, I can make anything reappear," he said with the smug disposition of a spoiled child.

_Seven Hours Later_….

At six thirty Erik had ordered that I prepare for the ceremony that would take place in a half hour. When I flatly refused, he threatened not only to track down Raoul, but also his brother and the other remaining members of his family. "Of course, mon ange, this could just be an empty threat for he may already be reduced to a rotting mass of flesh in my torture chamber. I guess you'll just have to take a gamble. After all, when you think about it, isn't that what marriage is, but a gamble? Sometimes it's happily ever after, other times it's a divorce, a mistress or maybe even murder!"

He had to literally drag me to the chapel, and upon our arrival, he ordered me to take my place in front of the altar. Nervously, I attempted as best I could to smooth the voluminous material that consisted of my dress. It was utterly breathtaking, maybe even one I would have chosen for my marriage to Raoul. The sleeves were long with sheer material that made it look like I had small flowers pressed into my skin. The bodice was modest, the perfect choice for a virgin bride, and the dress flared out at the slim, ribbon laced waist. Erik adjusted my veil, pulling the blusher in front so that my vision was clouded with a white scrim over all I saw. It was fitting, really, as it seemed I was in a dream sequence, and prayed to God that I was correct.

Erik took hold of my right arm, intertwining it with his, and we stood before the priest as he recited the grim ceremony in Latin. My heart beat furiously within my chest, and I felt I would faint if it were not for Erik's almost death grip on my arm. At last it came to the point where vows were to be recited in which Erik forcefully assented. Though his face was mostly hidden by the mask, I could see it lift from the size of his smile that appeared from underneath. My part came next, and at first, all I could do was sobbingly nod my agreement.

"My child, I need a verbal confirmation that you are to marry this…_man_," said the priest as he was uncertain how to address my intended husband. Erik shot him a vile look, and then took my delicate hand in a vice-like hold, intimidating me into my answer.

"Yes, I mean…I…do," was the reply I stammered. At the conclusion of the ceremony, Erik impressed upon me a kiss of vibrant passion. I knew he was thoroughly overjoyed at the ability to be a husband, even if it was coerced, and for a fleeting second I considered that maybe marriage together might not be as terrible as I had envisioned.


	4. Say You'll Share With Me

Erik

As she stood beside me dressed in the stunning apparel that befitted her innocence, I couldn't help beaming with happiness. Finally, God has given me the opportunity to love and be loved. At this point, the minds of most new husbands would be filled with lewd images of savagely removing the sacred wedding gown, and spoiling themselves with the body of their wife, their new plaything. If Christine never removed her dress until the day she died, I would never tire of seeing her amidst the lace and pearls.

I paid the priest more than the seven thousand francs I had promised, and as he was selfishly counting his wage, I escorted Christine back to our home. _Our home_….The words echoed in my mind with a peaceful resonance that filled me with a sense of calm, and for first time in a very long time, made me want to trust again.

When Christine and I kissed after the ceremony, I could feel the genuine sincerity of her emotional display. Though she may deny her true feelings for me, I knew enough of the coquettish games girls play when they are in love or seeking it. Having been a special guest in the harem of the Khanum many times, I knew the telltale signs of puppy love in disguise. I am not saying that she did not love Raoul, I knew that couldn't be further from the truth. Her feelings for me were mixed, me being her captor and mentor, but the moments we shared together…. When together we would sing, a musical euphoria would overtake us that were greater than any sexual climax. Simply said, I could not wait for us to begin our lives together.

* * *

Christine

When the ceremony ended, I felt both relieved and terrified. I was grateful that I would not have to profess false emotions before the priest, but I was scared to death of what Erik would ask of me. I was his wife now and that meant that there were certain _stipulations _that were required of me. I had heard stories among the older ballet dancers of what men and women do, of what they themselves had done, and the thought of Erik between my legs made my face blanch to the color of my dress. Though I was well within marrying age, he was significantly older than me, and it seemed indecent to practice those types of relations with him…almost wrong even.

Erik led me back down to the subterranean home where I was now mistress of the household. Although I should have felt awkward about being married to him now, somehow I felt calm with my arm lying upon his as though we were aristocracy. When we reached the house, he held the door open for me in a most gentlemanly fashion and I stood on the inside of the entryway, waiting for him to set all the traps. Surprisingly, he simply removed his cloak and fedora before walking towards me, planting a simple gentle kiss on my forehead.

"Are you going to take precautions for any intruders? I would think that you would not want any altercations on your wedding night," I offered.

"No, my dear. All of Paris could be ablaze tonight and I could not care less. At last, I have the love I have so cherished all my life, and I now have a wife that I can call my own." With that he took me in his arms and his embrace took the chill from the damp air of the basement. He swept me off me feet and into my bedchamber. I stood there for a brief second before he slyly motioned for me to turn around. Doing so, he began to unhook the snaps and buttons that held the vast amounts of fabric in place. He did it with a patient grace, like he was savoring the sight of each button slipping through the threaded loop hole, bringing him closer and closer to the tasty sight of his wife's bare body. With the last one unfastened, I pulled the dress front away from me, and he pulled the bodice and skirt down, allowing me to untangle it from my feet. The cold suddenly struck me as I stood in my chemise and wire hoop skirt before he unlaced the bottom half. I was quite aware that goose bumps had formed on my arms and thoroughly embarrassed as my nipples made themselves apparent to him, to which he let out a small moan.

"My dearest, there are too many layers of material that separate you and I. Perhaps we should make it a point to name this a clothing optional household," he said wryly. I released a nervous chuckle, and then a gasp as he daringly brought his lips over my breasts. The heat from his breath alone gave me a pleasurable sensation, but when he pulled the thin linen material away and his mouth engulfed the skin, I couldn't think of anything but the warm sensation rising in my body. He carefully gathered me his arms and he gently laid me on the bed as though I were a delicate parcel prone to shatter. He knelt beside me, his mouth again encasing my small breast, and although it felt good, a sudden chill came over me.

Erik sensed it immediately. "Are you alright, mon ange? I sense that you are not well."

"Erik, I-I just am unsure. You are wonderful at giving me a pleasure I've never felt before, but I'm very nervous and I…."

"Say no more, child, we do not have to go through with it tonight. It has been a long day, and I am tired myself. Perhaps tomorrow," he said kindly, placing one last kiss on my forehead. I was quite surprised at his turn in behavior. If it were the Erik of days previous, I would have been certain that he would yell and take me by force if necessary. I graciously thanked him for his hospitality to which he just shrugged and left my boudoir.

I heard him close the door to his room down the hall, and I drew the plush cream colored drapes around the bed. I had found a white cotton nightgown from the armoire, but as I tumbled into the oblivion of slumber, my dreams were filled with nightmares. I dreamt that Raoul came to rescue me at last, but when he saw that I was holding Erik's child, he accused me of being his whore and fled. I tried to run after him, pleading with him to take me back, let me escape with him, but suddenly he grew wings and flew away, leaving me on shore desperately crying for him.

When I awoke I could feel my body ache from the ferocity of which I was struggling in my sleep. The sheets were tangled around my legs, and my hair hung in damp clumps around my forehead. My watch said that it was 7:30 in the morning, and since Erik was not yet awake, I decided to make breakfast for a change.

Erik entered the kitchen just as I was finishing up the eggs and toast, and I smiled to myself as I turned my back to him to scoop the food. He had placed his mask and wig on, but he still looked very disheveled and not entirely awake. He was rubbing his eyes and his robe was loosely draped around this thin body, his black Persian sleeping clothes visible underneath. I set our plates down, and we consumed an enjoyable meal before sitting down in the living room. He talked to me not only with sincerity, but also with equality. I was not just some trophy wife, I was not expected only to be seen and not heard. He talked to me for the first time about his life before I knew him; when he was a mason in Rome, a court magician in Mazanderan, and his relations with Charles Garnier in the construction of this magnificent opera house. But when I asked him about his life growing up, he shut down, and I thought I saw a tear trickle down the left side of his face.

"I do not like to remember those times. Until I was nine I was shut up in my house, forbidden to leave. When I ran from home, I was captured by a Gypsy circus and put on display until I escaped when I was twelve, the circumstances of my escape being both out of terror and luck. From then on, I answered to no one and made as little contact with humans as possible." I was struck by his use of the word _humans_, as though he did not consider himself one of us. I put my hand on his back, and surprised myself by willingly kissing him on the forehead.

Erik, struck by this gesture, turned to face me. "Christine, do you think you could be happy as my wife?"

"I do not know, really," I sighed. "It is difficult because I love Raoul, and though I love you too, this is not really the life I would have chosen for myself. I know that you would do nothing to hurt me, and that if I desired anything at all, you would provide for me. I guess I am just…lonely."

He came up beside me and took me in his arms. "You may still see Meg and Madame Giry if you so chose. We can go to restaurants or to the park. I would do anything, Christine, _anything_ to make you happy. I understand that I was upset and easily provoked before, but now that I have you beside me, as my lawful wife, there is a hardly something that I could deny you."

"What if I wanted to see Raoul?"

He placed his forehead in his hands, and shook his head with despair. "Why? Why must you say such things to hurt me! I was willing to kill the Daroga for you, the only true friend that I have ever had! I gave you my music, I would stop at nothing to make you happy, and yet you _still_ ask for the _one _thing I am hesitant to bestow upon you."

* * *

Erik

Christine as my wife was both a blessing and a curse. Now that she was with me, my world was less dark and foreboding, and seemingly more fulfilled. The mere sight of her made me feel alive and stirred feelings within me that I thought I was well past the point of experiencing. She was my life and my love.

But at the same time, I would never be able to have her heart fully. As long as the Viscomte was alive, she would obsess about him coming to her rescue. Whenever I would see her beautiful blue eyes glaze over, I knew that she was daydreaming of a life outside of the one I would provide her with. When I lifted my head, I could see through tear stained eyes that she was looking away from me. She had hurt me so many times over, and now she could not even look me in the eye.


	5. Seduction

Finally a chapter worthy of the "R" rating.

* * *

Christine

So Erik and I lived cohesively, spending our days singing the great operatic works and reading together. Admittedly, life really didn't seem that different after marriage than before. Ayesha still hadn't warmed up to me, and merely tolerated my presence as a necessary evil as though I was taking Erik's attention away from her. When Erik was not looking, she would still hiss and try to claw at me, but I ignored the rodent feline and went about my personal business.

I still seemed to be adjusting to my surroundings in this dank basement. Through the vents that led to the central auditorium I could hear the pounding of hammers, signifying the reconstruction of the opera house. If I listened very closely, I could hear the faint sounds of Messieurs Andre and Firmin, though their voices were too muffled to distinctly decipher their words. Erik's home was magnificent, despite the rock wall surroundings. There was my bedroom, the kitchen, pink bathroom, library and foyer on the first floor, and upstairs was Erik's bedroom, green bathroom and another small work area. Though Erik was quite reluctant to tell me about this room, this room fascinated me most of all because it held a wonder of mechanical oddities that served a variety of functions from opening a door automatically, to little gizmos that were spring loaded. His artwork was exquisite with painted scenes of Milan, Paris and another locale that I assumed to be Mazanderan. Unfortunately I could not peruse through everything because he discovered my presence there, and quickly ushered me out.

Initially Erik understood my naive girlish modesty, but a week into our honeymoon I ran out of excuses as to why I could not consummate our marriage. He did not try to pressure me into the bedroom, but each time I rejected him he became more disheartened, visibly wounded. I knew that Erik had not had previous intimate relations with a woman, but despite his nervousness he had bodily demands, _sexual _demands, that needed to be fulfilled. I should have satisfied my duty as his wife the first night together, and our heir should be developing inside me this very moment. But I was afraid. I was afraid because I was not a virgin. I pretended I was one around the other dancers, Madame Giry and of course Erik, but Raoul had insisted one night a month ago that I _prove_ I loved him, that I was not secretly whoring myself over to Erik. I did not enjoy myself at all but Raoul still lavished me with kisses and endearing sentiments. His suspicions disproved, he refrained from asking me to come to his bed again until after we were married. Thankfully my courses came a week later, but if Erik did not see blood on the sheets….

The night finally came exactly a week after our marriage. I was reading Jane Eyre in the library as he sat down at his organ, and began to play a song I knew, one that I remembered _quite vividly:_ "Point of No Return" from _Don Juan_.

He sang the words with such grace, such fluidity that I became entranced, as I had been onstage. The sensuality that was laced into the beautiful tenor of his voice wrapped around me like a blanket of the softest velvet, and I found myself rising from the couch, the discarded book falling onto the white marble. His voice this night was far more seductive than it had been on stage, if that could even be possible, possibly because he was more determined than ever to enact his carnal fantasies on his new bride.

He rose from the piano bench, and I soon became enveloped in his arms as we sang the song a Capella. I embarrassingly felt the root of his lust pressed into my lower back, but with that sensation I felt a sudden ache in my own loins, and I knew at last that I would finally give myself to him. His hands were entwined with mine as they traveled across my sides, my belly, my breasts, and at the song's finish, he whispered in my ear, "How long should we two wait before we're one?"

"I am ready for you at last," I breathed.

* * *

Erik

I understood the virginal modesty that Christine possessed, but with the fact that she was my wife, my body yearned for its prolonged passion to finally be released. Each day as I saw her, I marveled at her beauty, even in the simplest of everyday tasks. I cherished every waking moment with her, from gathering for meals, to singing together, to the goodnight kiss that we would share. Granted we had yet to share a bed together, but I knew that would come in time. _I knew…._

A week into our newfound life together, I walked into the library and saw her sprawled on the couch, a copy of Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre placed in her lap. I knew that she was much too absorbed in her book to notice me, and utilizing this to my advantage, I surprised her by kissing her delicately on the head. She laughed, playfully hitting me with her book, and I was glad that our dispute over Raoul had finally passed. She loved the boy, I understood that, and though I was hurt, the jealous creature I am, the minor altercation came to be forgotten, or at least put behind us.

Nestled into her book once more, I seated myself at the organ and began to play from my beloved opera that had taken over twenty years to compose. I chose this piece to arouse the deep passion lurking behind her demure complexion. I admit, I was more than eager to have her come to my bed, to make love to her before falling into the graceful nirvana of the unconscious. Myself being a passionate man, I knew I would need to lie with her often to satiate my long repressed sexual appetite and this week had been torture as I'd been suffering from a painful state of physical arousal most of the time that I was in her company.

With each key that was depressed, the air seemed to change and swirl with seduction. At last I heard the book she was reading fall unceremoniously to the floor, and Christine was beside me, singing the sultry words of Aminta. Her voice oozed with enchantment, and I realized I was being ensnared in my own playful trap of arousal. I stood up from the bench, and we resumed singing without accompaniment, our hearts and libidos taking over for us. I could feel my loins become hard and throb with an unbridled desire. Taking her in my arms, I caressed her body, her hands interlaced with mine. She tilted her head back, resting it on my shoulders, and I seized the opportunity to assault her neck with kisses. She gasped, and I spun her to face me, pressing my lips against hers. I took her, drank from her, and when released, she had to grip the carved dark walnut frame of the pipe organ.

"How long should we two wait before we're one?" I teased.

"I am ready for you at last," I breathed.

Wordlessly, I scooped her into my arms, and carried her the short distance to her bedroom, my lips never parting from hers. We managed a single step in the room before I pressed her against the plastered wall and ravaged her lips and neck with kisses. Christine succumbed immediately to the violence in which I began to ravish her, and lifting her off the ground, she wrapped her legs around my waist as I began to move against her, still fully clothed. She returned the kiss with the same ferocity, her fingernails clawing at the fabric of my shirt, eager for it to be shed from my desirous body. Entwining her arms around my neck, she extracted her legs from around my waist and shakily stood upon the ground, her lips never parting from my own. In our fervor, I spun her around and yanked the buttons from their eyehooks, my nimble fingers violently unlacing her corset thus allowing her breasts to spill out from the loosened starchy wire frame. Her small hands clawed at my chest, ripping the shirt off and sending buttons shooting around the room. Her ruthless tenacity spurred my increasing lustful appetite, and within mere seconds, we were both naked of cloth in the intricately carved mahogany bed. I marveled at the sight of her perfectly developed body. Her stomach was slender with visible abdominal muscles from years of ballet training, and it traveled up to form small but perfectly budded breasts. I set myself down on top of her, extending my arms on the bed so that my full weight didn't crush her, and her thin muscular legs wrapped around me, holding me in place. As I rested my hardened sex to the secret womanly place between her legs, I became acutely aware that the first time was usually very painful for a female.

"Christine, this may hurt, and I have to say that I am fairly new at this-" But she stopped me with a finger pressed to my lips.

"I trust you, Erik. You know what to do."

I kissed her again passionately, my body bursting with need to burrow inside her. As I gently pushed my tongue past her lips, I heard her gasp with surprise and delight as I hesitantly thrust into her. The warmth and taught sensation surrounded me, and I cried out from the sheer magnitude of it. Christine delightfully arched her back, her eyes closed and her rosy lips opened to release a strangled cry that nearly sent me over the edge.

I started to move within her, my hands bracing my weight on either side of her head. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she periodically released a small moan that each time, brought me prematurely closer to my ultimate fulfillment.

"Oh, Christine," I breathed. "I love you so much…." She responded with a wild kiss, her hands caressing my neck, but seemingly wary of removing my mask. I could feel the sweat dripping down my face behind it, but I didn't want to ruin this blissfully complete moment.

Sadly, it was not very long at all before I felt myself approaching release, so I pushed harder and faster, causing the entire wooden frame of the bed to shake. I felt myself explode into her, my whole body shaking, and I was surprised to hear myself let out deep, breathy moans. When I was able to return to myself, I was disappointed to find Christine's flushed face betray her lack of fulfillment.

"I'm sorry, I've never done this…I couldn't stop myself from…" but she quieted me with a gentle kiss on the lips before nestling her face in my neck. Despite the heat in the room, I pulled the covers up to preserve our humility, and she settled herself closer to me, one leg draped over my thigh. After a few minutes I felt the steadiness of her breath, indicating she was asleep. I lay there for a long while, replaying each moment in my head until I too became a victim of sleep.


	6. Regret

Christine

I awoke the following morning beside Erik, my arm draped across his midsection. He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling gently as I vividly recalled the events that had transpired the night before. I couldn't help but smile at the way he had made me feel, the long suppressed emotions that he had awakened. I had been hesitant to remove his mask, not for my sake but his as it seemed to be his security blanket, his one final boundary between him and myself as the complicated lover. Somehow it all seemed surreal to me, the bed, the house, my Angel, yet in that moment it all fit together like a three dimensional complex puzzle of perception.

As he pressed himself deeper into me and myself into the mattress, I could feel I was sinking into a cloud in heaven, having my sweet Angel play his music only for me. His body molded to mine as though we were created for moments such as this, our sweat and other juices mixing together to produce an elixir, a chemical reaction that only we would know. Would a child result from this union? Only time would tell, and right now, I didn't care. I didn't care about anything but this.

When I felt myself on the edge of reason, sanity and conscious thought, I grabbed him and brought his face towards mine. I goaded his mouth open with my tongue, and twisted it around his as he released a sonorous moan, his hands grabbing at my breasts and plunging hard and deep into the crevice of my femininity. Erik thrust a few more times before at last succumbing to his liberation, his body tensing and then limply falling on top of mine. He shifted so as not to crush me, and he gently laid my head on his chest as it rose and fell quickly from the effort just exerted. I noted that he smelled sweetly of sweat and his own natural body scent as I pulled my long moistened hair around me. I had been _so close_ to falling off the precipice! My body ached pleasantly although my insides throbbed with unresolved tension that would just have to wait until another night.

But despite all the racing hormones and musical euphoria, I was so confused, not knowing what I wanted, and suddenly again fearful of what my life would be like with Erik. As good as he felt inside me, I couldn't help but feel as though I had been seduced against my will, the overwhelming power of _Don Juan Triumphant_ being the tool he used to get me in bed. I also felt greatly dismayed at the disappearance of my former fiancé, not knowing whether he was alive or dead. "_Raoul would not have given up on me so easily to have abandoned me_, I thought._"He must have gotten lost somewhere down here and he could already be dead!"_

With that horrific realization, I flung the covers off me, shivering as the cold penetrated my naked body, and winced at the tender soreness between my legs. _"What have I done? I've slept with my lover's murderer!"_ Meanwhile beside me, Erik murmured something before opening his eyes and smiling. "Good morning, my wife," he said as he kissed my lower back. "Getting up so soon?" He tried pulling me down beside him, but I sat on the edge of the bed, covering myself with my half of the duvet.

"Good morning, my husband," I politely said in return.

"Is everything all right, Christine? Are you well?"

"Yes, Erik, I am fine, just…hungry, I guess," I replied, reaching for my robe. "I will make breakfast."

"As long as you are alright, mon cherie. You don't regret last night, do you?" he asked worriedly.

"No, no, I am fine," and I walked out of his bedroom.

Though the honeymoon had just begun, Erik still had me work on my singing later that day. Once the repair work on the opera house would be complete, the first show they would be presenting was _Samson and Dalila_, a fairly new opera. To get prepare myself for the part, Erik had me sing the role of Dalila to his Samson, a breathtaking score that swept me off me feet. _"How befitting that we should sing about a woman bringing down a man by means of seduction,"_ I thought dryly to myself. I was starting to think that I would never be happy anymore because I missed Raoul terribly, but I knew that if I were with him then I would be pining for Erik instead.

Erik knew something was wrong when my heart just didn't seem to be in the music. "Amore, you are upset about something, please tell me what is troubling you."

I really didn't want to because I knew he would either get very upset or fly into a blind rage, as he has been prone to do. "It's nothing, dear, honestly, you have no cause to worry."

"It's Raoul, I know it is. Christine, you can't hide that look from me. I saw it in your eyes when you were with him, and now it has been present since you two have parted. You'd like to see him."

I spun around, ready to spit fire at him. "Of course I would, but I am here as your prisoner wife, unable to leave this God forsaken dungeon! Erik, I loved him and I was happy with him, and though I care for you too, you can't keep me down here forever! I miss being above the surface and being able to come and go as I please! I know I can't change your mind about anything, but you can't expect me to be a puppet around you, masquerading with a false façade of happiness! I won't do it, and most of all _I can't_. I just can't!" Unable to control my emotions, I slumped to the floor and burst into frantic sobs. Immediately he was on the floor and at my side. His arms were around me, and gently taking my head in his hands, he laid it on his shoulder. I could feel my tears seep into the linen of his shirt, but he didn't seem to mind.

He spoke to me tenderly, his words soft and comforting. I would have thought that with my outburst, he would have been enraged, vowing to murder Raoul in cold blood if he ever saw him again. "You are right, my love, it is unfair to keep you down here. You are free to venture to the surface when you are performing, but you will become unhealthy if you stay down here forever. This week, Christine, we will look for a home above ground but far enough outside of Paris where I will be free to roam my property and the land without disturbance. We can both be happy together and free from everyone."

* * *

Erik

I knew that I would never fully win Christine's heart, especially if I kept her youthful vitality locked up in this labyrinthine basement for much longer. I could already see her creamy skin become sallow, and I was increasingly troubled about her health. In the meantime, she had settled herself on the sofa with some sewing, and I figured this would be an opportune moment to write a letter to my dear opera house mangers.

_Messieurs Firmin and Andre,_

_I understand that you are renovating the theatre. Such a shame, this tragedy with the chandelier. However, time perseveres and so does business, in which case, I have a proposition for you. I will see to it that another unfortunate debacle of this nature should not occur if Christine is to take over the role of Dalila in place of that pompous cow, Carlotta. As I now have wife to look after, yes, I am newly married, I will raise the monthly salary to $35,000 francs. I assume once the opera populaire reopens, and you have to make profit on the repairs, you will be able to adjust your wages. _

_Regards, _

_O.G._

I sealed the letter, prepared to deliver to Madame Giry the following day, and sat beside Christine. She was repairing the tears at the bottom of the wedding dress she wore the night I kidnapped her. Her hands deftly moved across the hem, stitching in and out at a rapid pace. I watched her with a curious fixation, as though she were painting a masterpiece on this bit of satin and lace. I must have been staring for a few minutes when she looked up at me.

"I'm sorry, I find that I have run out of tasks to keep me occupied," she said dully.

"My love, why don't we dine out tonight? I know that you have been aching to get out of this basement, and I find that I might like to get some fresh air myself," I said enthusiastically.

"Erik, you really don't mind? I know that you only go up to the streets when you are in need of something."

I kissed her delicately on her full pink lips. "I love you, my dear, and I just want you to be happy. You have given me what I have craved all my life, I think I can handle this interaction with human beings for one night."

We left through the Rue de Rivoli entrance, and hailing a carriage, I ushered Christine inside. I ordered the driver, a young man of about eighteen, to take us to the most expensive restaurant in Paris. I had known an extravagant place called _le Cygne_, however it had been years since I dined above ground, and living in such a fashionable city, more exotic locales must surely have sprung up. Although I had been outside the basement a few days previous when I purchased the new dress and sought the priest, somehow it seemed alien to me to be out for purely entertainment. I made certain that we were seated in a private location, away from prying eyes. Despite Christine's being around other people, I could not seem to drag her from the solitude in which she seemed to have plummeted. It was only when I ordered some wine that she seemed to climb out of her dreary reverie. We finished our meal at last, and I had to practically carry her into the carriage. I wrapped my cloak around her as it had started to snow heavily, but she seemed impervious to the cold February air, and shrug it off with a laugh.

"Oh, Erik, you act as though I am a child!" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She wanted it to seem bold and adult-like, but I found she just came across as being even more adorable. At last we came to my secret entrance to the opera house, and paying the driver, it was a short while before we found ourselves back in her bedroom.

"Oh, Erik," she giggled. "Last night was fantastic, I felt so alive but I must admit you left me unfulfilled." She teased me then by tapping her white gloves against the pocket of my vest. I was struck at her brashness; very uncharacteristic of the demure young woman I had watched from afar for so long. She fell into my arms, and I could only laugh at her intolerance for even just a few glasses of wine.

"I am glad to hear that, Christine. I found I rather enjoyed it myself," I mused, hanging up my cape and twirling her in my arms.

Her eyes went wide. "Oh, Erik, don't do that, I may just make an unladylike mess of your beautiful carpet!"

"Well then," I whispered as I led her to the middle of the room by her elbow. "Perhaps I should put you to bed…."


	7. The Jilted Lover Returns

Erik

Words fail to capture my feeling as my eyes opened that morning to reveal that she was beside me. As she lay there, nestled in the oblivion of her thoughts and dreams, I stared at her as my hand tenderly glided across her velvety skin. I remember Madame Giry telling me, when her daughter Meg was still just in swaddling clothes, that a person will always look the same when they are asleep, regardless of when they're an infant or elderly, and I could just imagine the way Christine looked as a young child. Her russet curls bouncing as she ran along the seaside, or the way she would stare in awe at her father as he played his magical violin. And here she was, that same child a full decade after Gustave's death, and her Angel of Music kept his promise to instruct and oversee her. I tell you, I could have lain there all day with her in my arms, savoring the sweet intimacy of a newlywed couple on their honeymoon.

But as it was, I heard the indication that there was someone present at the entrance to my home. I quickly dressed and upon emerging from the sanctity of the bridal suite, I was pleased to find the jilted lover, the _former_ fiance of my beloved Christine.

I greeted him with open arms from behind the safety of the portcullis. "Ah, monsieur, with such a prolonged absence I thought you had given up on Mademoiselle Daae. Oh, but my manners, she is no longer Mademoiselle, for you see, she is my wife!"

"You monster!" he raged. The boy's visage was rather shocking for someone so conscious of their appearance. His hair was filthy and matted with sweat and blood. His clothes were torn, as though he had fallen many times against something rough, and judging by his gauntness, it appeared as though he hadn't eaten in many days. Without any sort of explanation, I knew that he had stumbled upon the hidden corridors within the walls of this opera house, a trick Garnier himself never knew. "Let her go, she did you no harm! You are drawing the life out of her each day you keep her locked away!"

Christine, apparently having heard voices and awoken, came out dressed in her robe. She rubbed her eyes, and upon setting them on Raoul, she burst into tears. "Raoul! You are alive, I was so worried! I have missed you so much." She struggled through the water to the gates and stuck her hand in between the bars so as she could touch her sweetheart in a gesture of realization.

"Ah, yes, as you can see, Viscomte, she has been missing you terribly, but don't worry, I have taken care of her." Feeling the victor in this situation, I advanced toward them, and yanking at the collar of her robe, showed him the red bruise from my ardent kiss the night before.

"Erik!" she screamed before drawing from a hidden reserve of anger and slapping me. "Let me go! I married you; I willingly went to your bed, why must you continue to torture me so!" She fell against the cold metal and became immersed in violent wracking sobs. Recovering from the physical blow dealt me, I found myself staring into the blazing green eyes of Raoul.

"You bastard! Why do you do this to her! She deserves none of it! You are unleashing your hatred for me on her, just let her go, and you can do with me as you like!" He tried reaching for my neck, a foolish maneuver indeed in unfamiliar territory. In a gesture too quick for him to react, his wrist was in my grasp, and with a sickening crack and a yell of pain from his parched mouth, the bones were shattered.

"Perhaps that will teach you some etiquette when you are a guest," I stated coldly. I grabbed Christine by her hair as she released a horrific shriek and yanked her from the metal bars. "The same goes for you as well, 'tis not proper for a wife to act in such a disobedient manner." I walked brusquely to the lever to the left of the gate, and pulling it down, the portcullis rose. Raoul, clutching his broken wrist to his chest, waded through the water and fell upon the stone steps at the very front of my home. Christine rushed to his side, ripping pieces from her morning attire and bandaging the broken bones. She hovered protectively above him as I made my approach.

"The lovers once more find themselves at the mercy of my wraith. How touching, Christine. You rush to his side for a broken wrist, yet when he was ready to impale me upon his sword in the cemetery, you turned your back and rode away with him. You conniving little viper, I suppose you were his whore before you came to me as well." She hid her face from me, and with a sickening horror that sank to the pit of my stomach, I knew that what I said was true. I should have stopped there, my love for her was overwhelming and I knew that this would reinforce the barrier between us, but I could not stop there. I had control, and I wanted them to _suffer _as they had continuously made me suffer. "I see, my dear, it all makes sense now. The Viscomte needed proof to know that you loved him more than me, so you had to give him what I had not yet tasted. Tell me, my love, did he see the sheets when you two were finished as a final confirmation of your innocence? I understand now why ours were devoid of maidenly blood. Was it sweet, Raoul, in white silk sheets scattered with rose petals?" I noticed his body tighten, spurning my rage. "Or was it in a dark alleyway, leaning up against a rotting picket fence as she rubbed against you, satiating your appetite for the destruction of purity? Is she your first virgin, or first among many?" Christine, in hysterics ran behind me and I heard the door to my bedroom slam in such a way that it tipped a few of the candelabras. As the candles were extinguished, it caused an ominous dark shadow to cross Raoul's face.

"You know nothing of love, Erik," Raoul spat. "Your lust for blood is only surmounted by your lust for innocence. I am glad she came to me first, you vile rapist, she can at least have one decent memory of how a man is _supposed_ to physically love a woman."

"And what would you know, you impertinent boy! Where have you been this past week so that you were detained from saving your betrothed? No doubt marauding around the streets of Paris, displaying yourself as the fashionable rich boy of Parisian society!" His words had struck deeper than the blow I had endured from Christine. That boy could not possibly comprehend the level of tenderness shared between us. I worshipped everything about her, treated her as a goddess, and more importantly, as an equal. He may lay with her, but that is only one aspect of marriage. He would show her on display, disregard her musical passion, and expect her to stay home and care for his children while he was parading around with other women. If only she could _see_ what her alternate life with him would be.

"I grow tired of your insolence. You have been caught trespassing upon my property, and now you must pay the penalty with your life. I suppose it is a blessing Christine left so soon, she will be spared the sight of your death!"

I threw the lasso around his neck, and then there was nothing but blackness.

* * *

Christine

I awoke to the sound of raised voices, and my heart leapt as I recognized the possessor of the second one. I threw on my robe and rushed outside of the bedroom to find Erik standing on the marble floor and Raoul's bedraggled form banging on the portcullis.

"Raoul!" I rushed forward, but Erik stepped in my path.

"You have a guest, my dear. I greeted him with patience and hospitality, but he rudely ignored me, demanding to see you. I must say, I do not appreciate the lack of tact in your friends," he said sarcastically.

"Please, Erik, let me see him."

"I would say that you have a clear vantage point from right here," he replied coolly. I ignored his licentious comment and threw myself into the shallows, moving as quickly as possible through the cloudy water. He extended his arms through the squares in the barrier, and wrapped them around me as much as possible.

"That can be construed as adulterous, my love, and I will not have a harlot as my wife." A hint of danger crept in his voice, and I knew that I had to somehow let Raoul in before Erik killed us both. Any trace of the gentleness that had appeared when we were married was gone, and I became acutely aware that both our lives were in considerable danger. I cursed myself for falling in love with such a monster, and even now in the midst of his brutal tirade I loved him.

I was abruptly pulled backward, and Erik had a hold on my neck. He ripped the cloth collar of my robe to reveal the red mark of passion he had implanted there in the hours of our intoxicated sexual escapade. I felt ashamed as I saw Raoul's eyes widen with fright and abhorrence.

"As you can see, my dear boy, she has not been entirely faithful to you, have you my love?" He planted a sickening kiss on my lips, and I jerked away, slapping him fiercely. He stumbled backward a few steps before recovering, and I swear that his strange amber eyes flashed with red as I had breached my last line of personal defense. "Now I see where your heart truly belongs. It is not wise to disobey me again, Christine."

"Erik, what has come over you? What happened to the loving, compassionate, romantic man I married? You have treated me with kindness ever since we were married, and now you resort to cruelty and manipulation!"

"Your love for Raoul is considered unfaithfulness, and for that I will seek to end the emotional affair before it can grow to something greater," he said contemptuously.

Without warning, Raoul's hand reached through the gate, but before it reached Erik's neck, he snatched it in his grasp and broke it with a nauseating crunch of bone. He wrenched the metal handle upwards, and with a slow clank of chain, the portcullis lifted. Raoul collapsed in my arms as we trudged up to the banks of the water. Erik proceeded to taunt me by calling me a whore and accusing Raoul of seducing me against my will. I knew that I had to plan an escape for us both, and pretending to be overly distraught, I raced from the room and shut the door to Erik's room.

But before I did so, I grabbed the heavy pewter candelabra that had been sitting on the organ in his room, and figuring this would be my only opportunity, I tiptoed silently from the room. I took the back hall that reached around to his library, behind where he was standing, and removing my slippers, I crept up behind him. The noose on the Punjab lasso was tightened, and as he lunged to pull it around Raoul's neck, the candelabra met with Erik's deformed skull in a blow that knocked him unconscious. He fell forward, and Raoul labored to his feet, shrugging the rope off his neck.

"You have to get out of here!" I whispered.

"Not without you, I need to get you out of here and away from Paris," he said, glancing around for an alternate escape route.

"But if I stay, you will be safe. We will be moving within a week, away from this dungeon, to the countryside outside of Paris. When we do, I will run away or get a note to you of where I am. Then we can sail to England or even America to start over."

"Christine, we cannot risk it, I lost you once, I do not want to lose you again," he pleaded. I noticed that Erik was beginning to stir, and knowing that Raoul would not leave without me, I resolved to flee with him.

"Alright, but we must go now, he is waking up!" He grabbed my wrist and we ran to the secret passage that led to the Rue de Scribe. He shifted open the stone wall for me to climb through, but as I turned around I had a clear vantage point of my captor

Erik sat up, clearly disoriented, and seeing the wall out of place, shouted, "You have defied me for the last time, Viscomte!" He lurched to his feet quickly and a short time later, closed the distance between us. Raoul was right behind me when I heard him gasp and stumble backward. I grabbed hold of the slippery stonewall to slow down, and my eyes befell a terrifying horror before me. Raoul was lying on the wet cobbled floor, blood trickling from his midsection.

"Raoul!" I screamed, and bent to his side. His tattered shirt was soaked in blood, and I burst into quivering sobs. I kissed his lips, his hair, and his neck as he lay there dying, but Erik ripped me from his side.

"Come, Christine, I am not through with you yet."


	8. Unanticipated Rage

**Christine**

"_Come, Christine, I am not through with you yet." _

Erik's strong arms encircled my waist, dragging me backwards from where Raoul lay dying. I reached out to him, kicking fiercely in an attempt to free myself from Erik's powerful grip, but he held steadfastly. I saw as we rounded the corner that Raoul reached blindly towards me, but I could only call out to him. "Raoul, please hold on, I love you, I will come back for you."

When we returned to Erik's home, he released his hold on my waist but reclaimed my arm in his grasp. "You are a conniving little bitch! What were you aiming to accomplish? You think I wouldn't find you, come get you? You are mine now, and you will stay by my side until one of us is dead."

"This is no way to earn my love," I spat. "At one time I could have actually imagined being happy with you, perhaps even falling in love, but so long as you treat me as a caged animal, you will never earn anything but disdain and loathing."

He laughed, a malicious sound that sent shivers up my spine. "But, my love, I would never have been able to earn that anyway so long as your precious Viscomte was alive. I know that you have been thinking of him this whole time." With a flick of his wrist, my arm was free. "Even if you did stay here with me, to appease me, you would still run to the service as his bed maiden…as you have already done."

"How dare you speak of the relations Raoul and I shared? Yes, he asked me to his bed, but I did not go there completely unwilling! At least I didn't need to be seduced or drunk to sleep with him."

"You tread on dangerous ground, Madame."

"There is nothing that you could do now that would have an effect on me! Go ahead, hit me, punch me, rape me, and release all of your frustrations at yourself on me! Claim me as your own; brand me so that no one will ever seek to touch me again!"

A vicious roar escaped Erik's lips, and the air was squeezed out of my lungs as he painfully shoved me against his desk. It was pressing painfully into my abdomen and I felt his strong grip on the back of my neck, thrusting my head down so that my face was just inches from the surface.

"You are mine and I am to never hear of the Viscomte ever again!" I heard the clinking sound of him removing his belt, and with sickening horror I realized that he was going to act out upon the taunting threats I had bestowed upon him. "You have disobeyed me for the last time."

I felt the cloth of my robe part from legs as Erik ripped the material away, and before I could cry out against it, I was filled with a searing pain as he slammed his manhood into me full force. I screamed in agony, but he ignored it as he continued to violently use me, taking me from behind as though I were a common prostitute.

"Please, no! Erik! Erik, my angel, stop, you're better than this!" I whimpered as he gasped behind me.

"Your angel?" he rasped. "I'm no angel and neither are you," he punctuated with a thrust. "I might regret this one day, but so help me, Christine, I don't know what else to do with you."

I tried to mentally separate myself as much as possible, focusing on a random scratch and ink blot that tarnished the surface of the beautiful mahogany desk. Erik's harsh groans were loud and dominating, but thankfully it was not long before I felt him tense and shudder with his release, pulling away from me. I slowly stood up, my back and legs aching from the amount of pressure placed upon them, and I looked down to find his semen run down my legs in thin white trickles. I never looked at him, but I could hear him fasten his trousers and wordlessly storm from the sitting room into the bedroom that we now shared and before slamming the door.

I gathered the remains of the robe and draped around my waist as I walked over to the shore. It was very sore between my legs and I was surprised that there was no blood. Eager to rid myself of this dirty feeling, I slid into the cold water with the robe still tied around my waist, and let myself glide in. I hadn't felt it before but the water was numbing, which was exactly how I wanted to feel at the moment.

* * *

**Erik**

I was enraged at Christine's betrayal, and my vision was blinded by red as I sought justice, no, _revenge_. Killing the Viscomte would never be enough, seeing as he was already dead and I still felt this bourgeoning rage. I loved my Christine, but she needed to learn that she was _my_ wife, and as such she would obey by _my_ rules. As I dragged her back to my home, she struggled, and I felt disgusted with myself when I became aroused at her unruly state. Her robe was becoming untied and whenever she fought I could see her perfectly budded breasts, swollen with exertion. Her hair was a tangled mess of curls, thrown about wildly when she tried to pull away from me. I was throbbing painfully within my trousers as I attempted to fight the urge to throw her on the bed and dominate her.

"You conniving little bitch! What were you aiming to accomplish? You think I wouldn't find you, come get you? You are mine now, and you will stay by my side until one of us is dead." I could not believe the words that were coming out of my mouth, as though I was possessed by some outrageous demon. I would never refer to Christine so commonly, but I was angered, so infuriated, it appeared as though nothing would calm my tirade.

Emboldened by her anger and ruthlessness, she spurned me on, teasing me to hit or rape her. At that moment the demons within me burst forth with a terrifying urgency, and before I could stop myself, I had swept all of the papers off the table surface and rammed her up against the desk. I could hold out no longer, and my hands deftly moved to my trousers as they removed my belt and unleashed the beast which was about to invade the body of my beloved wife. I never even bothered to take off my clothes as I peeled away the dirty cloth of Christine's robe and plunged myself into her with all of my ferocity. I was vaguely aware of hearing her cry and whimper, but all I could focus on was of the Viscomte stealing her virginity, his body intermingled with my wife's, and the sound of his name upon her lips. I pumped hard into her, causing the desk to scrape against the stone wall, creating an unearthly screeching that was only deafened by my angry shouts.

"_Why, Christine, why!"_ I begged as she stood awkwardly below me. Her face was away from me, and I guessed that she must not have heard me. It did not matter, I did not want her to speak, only to stand there and take this unnatural abuse. As my release flowed through me, I moaned loudly and poured all of the sinful, hellish feelings into her, practically overflowing her small womb. I looked upon her then, her knees bent painfully, fingernail marks in the wood surface, and her backside red and wet from slapping against her so hard.

I was disgusted with myself then, more so than I ever had before. I had committed murder, but it was necessary to ensure my survival. I had _never_ taken a woman by force, and I had never intended to. I had always looked so unfavorably upon people who had, who were unable to control their sexual appetite or emotions, and would have strung them up myself. And now I had become one, a sexual predator, and to the very woman I loved more than life itself. She barely moved as I fastened my trousers and straightened my appearance. I was sweating, and I longed to remove my shirt, which now clung to me uncomfortably. She turned around, and I caught site of her. Her hair hung in matted clumps around her head, no longer the beautiful curls that bounced with her movements. Her face was covered with a sheen of sweat and her lip was cut, presumably from where she had bit down on it so hard. She looked as if she were about to collapse on herself, pained with an ache that she could not get rid of. It was with this last horrid vision of what I had done to her that I fled to my room, eager to consume my entire inventory of alcohol, wanting to rid myself of this world through poison.

**The Next Day…**

Much to my dismay, I awoke the following day feeling sick to my stomach and with a wicked hangover. I had been drunk before, but never to this great extent, and after last night, I never endeavored to again. I had found Christine curled up close to the shore of the lake, and burdened by my grief at raping her, I took care of her in her illness. She had acquired a fever which I could only assume was from being in the water too long, but when I attempted to strip her of her clothes, she winced and cried out. My heart shattered in my chest with her reaction to me, especially since it was solely my fault. Would she ever warm to my touch again?

"My dearest Christine, I will forever by sorry by what I did to you. In order to make you better again, you must remove your wet clothes. You may remove them yourself, but please, if you do not become well again, I shall die without you." Wordlessly and in a strange stupor, she changed into a clean nightgown behind her silk screen, and I ordered her to get under the covers. She nestled in, and it was not long before she had fallen asleep, still graceful even with flushed cheeks and sunken eyes.

I went back to the scene Raoul's fatal struggle, and to my shock and horror, found that the body of the Viscomte was _not_ lying in a pool of blood. Upon further investigation, I discovered a trail of the ochre liquid leading to the exit, my hypothesis being that this could only be the cunning work of the Daroga. Despite the fact that I knew it would considerably ease the burden upon Christine's tender heart; I chose to keep this revelation to myself. If she knew her lover was still alive, she would retain a childish hope that her prince would attempt another rescue, and _I would see to it_ that he failed again.

**Two Weeks Later….**

I had found and secured a home about seven miles outside of Paris; far enough away from civilization to make me happy but close enough for Christine to commute to the opera house. She had started to attend rehearsals a few days previous for _Samson and Dalila_ even though reconstruction of the main stage was still well under way. Though she was out of my presence for now, when it came time for rehearsal to be over, she knew that I would be watching, waiting in my carriage outside the temporary auditorium where rehearsals were being conducted. She was still understandably upset over her lover's tragic demise and of the cruelty that I had inflicted upon her, but she took her place beside me with a quiet reserve, almost as though we were teacher and pupil once more. I had not approached her about making love since the night I forced her into it, and I think deep down she respected me for it, or as much as she could respect her kidnapper.

We had spent our days practicing the musical score, or evaluating the layout of our new home. It was quite a large home for just Christine and I, though I would see to it that a full house of servants was staffed at all times. I had never delivered the letter to Madame Giry to subsequently deliver to the opera house managers, and thus the concept of 35,000 francs a month was abandoned. Christine did earn a handsome sum as the leading soprano, at least until Carlotta's return from her sick leave, however it would not be enough money to sustain us with such a grand life of luxury my tastes demanded, and I chose a position as a freelance designer. Once word got out about the opera house debacle, and that I was one of Garnier's chief consultants, I was flooded with offers to create buildings that were springing up in the old slums of Paris. I found it ironic that a mob had been swarming after me, ready to hang me with my own lasso, and now they were showering me with praises at the ideas that I presented before them. Pathetic, really, the majority of the human race. Greedy, self serving, manipulative. At least Christine was not as completely corrupted as they were.

As I delved into the sketches of the new department store, the alarm sounded and my fears arose as I thought for sure it would be the Viscomte at my doorstep, thirsty for revenge. I grabbed a length of rope for protection, knotting it as I walked from the library to the entrance of my domain. I must say, though, that I was not surprised instead to find my good friend Nadir outside the portcullis, waiting patiently with his arms at his sides.

"Ah, what a pleasant day old friend to stop by for a visit!" I exclaimed as I raised the gate. He did not appear amused.

"Erik, this has gone on long enough," he stated emphatically. "Christine has married you, stayed with you, despite the attempted murder of her lover. You have proven that you have won, why do you not just grant the girl her freedom, and let her live the remainder of her life happy with the one she _really _longs to be with."

His words stung me but I refused to be insulted in my own home and I firmly stood my ground. "How dare you come here like this! I know that you found the boy and saved his life. What do you want, a medal of honor for that? She came to me as an adult, and I treat her as such, unless she needs to be disciplined. She still is so like a child in many ways," I sighed.

"The Viscomte will not stop until she is safely away from you and you are dead."

"Well, Daroga, you know as well as I that my health is failing, and if he just waits patiently, she may come to him sooner than he thinks. Although I must say that with her beside me, my health seems to have miraculously improved. Perhaps I had been dying of a broken heart…"

"Quit this foolishness, Erik, you know that you have been plagued with seizures since you were poisoned in Mazendaran."

"A moment of stupidity on my behalf," I sneered. "Anyway, it has been awhile since we have last conversed, would you care to join me in a cup of tea?"

"Not right now, Erik, I have matters to attend to, of a personal nature. I came with the useless attempt to get you to release the havoc that you are causing."

I burst in a fit of laughter. "Honestly, Nadir, have you ever known me to truly enjoy a state of normalcy?"

"No, I suppose not but I shall stop by soon enough," he said, turning to leave.

"There is no need to return. Christine and I will be leaving here within a week, and I am afraid I cannot disclose our new residence at this present time. When I need to contact you again, I will do so."

"And who says that I can be contacted?" he replied smartly, though he knew that I would find ways, no matter how ruthless, to get a message to him if need be.

"I say."

* * *

**The Persian**

I knew that by entering the chamber, I was toying with my life. By this time Erik would have discovered the missing body of the Viscomte, and immediately he would have figured that it was I who dragged him from this cavern of terror.

I had come to speak to Erik at once when I read in the newspaper that the chandelier had killed three audience members, seriously wounding twenty-five more, and that the lead singer of _Don Juan Triumphant_, Mademoiselle Christine Daae, had gone missing. I had entered the passage through the Rue de Scribe entrance, and as I progressed, I heard pitying cries from a man who sounded as though he were in agonizing pain. I broke into a run and was astonished to find the Viscomte laying on the floor, near death, and drenched in a pool of his own blood.

Despite the torment of his present condition, what caught me off guard were his delirious cries for his lost love. "I have failed her! I came to rescue her, and now she will be at the mercy of that _monster_!" Without waiting for an explanation, I picked up the deranged Viscomte, and carried him delicately over my shoulder back out the entrance. No one saw as I hailed a carriage and placing him gently inside, sat beside him and paid the driver a generous amount of francs to bring him to a hospital immediately.

Thankfully the Viscomte was not in short supply of funds, and the doctors had little difficulty stitching him up for the wage they would be paid. Raoul lay in the hospital for over a week, but made a healthy recovery with only a nasty scar to indicate what had happened.

"I came to rescue her, and that monster, that seed of evil had _married_ her! He put his hands on my beloved, tainted her innocence forever!" he raged, his hands clenching into fists and knocking the chair over as he stood with vigor.

"Raoul, there is nothing you can do now, you must recover or you will reverse the procedures and inflict more damage internally," I soothed. "Erik is a very dangerous man as you already know. There is a time and a place to go back to her, but you must be patient."

"But I can't wait, Nadir, she is at the mercy of his tirades. I mean, what if he impregnates her with his child, his _spawn_." I noticed a visible shudder run through him.

"Allah works in many ways, ways that we will never know and never understand," I offered. I understood his pain, but I also understood Erik's. I had known him for over twenty years, and was probably one of the few friends he had ever had. I knew Erik's suffering, that he himself probably was torn apart about what he had done. But love makes us do crazy things, and if somebody loved anyone as much as Erik loved Christine….

"By no means am I defending the merciless acts he is capable of, but I can say that I know Erik better than anyone else. He is ruthless, selfish, cunning and manipulative, but that is all he has known of life. He was shunned by his own mother, beaten and put on display for money, and forced into the court politics of the Shah of Mazendaran. I am very sorry that it is Christine who is his chosen victim, but he loves her and feels that at last he deserves her. Viciousness aside, you can be sure that Christine will be loved and more."

"He _does not_ deserve her!" Raoul shouted, and slamming his fist on the table, he shattered the china plate that had been sitting there. "I am so sorry, Monsieur Khan, I will clean it up."

I sighed. "No, my boy, I will. Get some rest." As much as Raoul hated Erik, I could see too many similarities between the two. Their arrogance, passion, determination and ferocious tempers…either way it worked out, Christine would have her hands full.

* * *

**Christine**

Two weeks had passed since Raoul's death. I was still mourning his loss when Erik informed me that rehearsals were starting for _Samson and Dalila_. I was eager to get out of this dank basement, my first time above ground since I had been swept away during _Don Juan Triumphant._ Erik had written a letter to the managers informing them of my return, and when I arrived at the rehearsal site, I was greeted with an onslaught of questions.

"_What happened during _Don Juan Triumphant_?"_

"_Have you really been captive all this time?"_

"_Why did he release you back to the theatre?"_

"_Are you his bride?"_

"_Do you love him?"_

I raised my hand in a gesture of defiance, and insisted that the rehearsal continue. I was grateful to be back on the stage, surrounded by familiar faces. In between scenes, Meg managed to corner me.

"Christine, what is going on? You are wearing a wedding ring, surely you are not betrothed to the Phantom?" she asked with the wide-eyed curiosity of a child.

"I am," I replied simply.

Her pale, delicate face turned to a look of horror. "Christine! What about Raoul? How could you abandon him!"

"I had to, Meg, and that is all I will disclose." I felt terrible hiding secrets, especially ones of this nature from my best friend. If she found out, the whole opera house would know, and I would be driven out of my mind. In these days since Raoul had died, I really only found pleasure being on the stage. Erik understood my emotional turmoil at the moment, and trod around me as though I were a slumbering lion. We dined and practiced music together, but any other contact between us was limited. We slept in the same large bed but Erik never asked to exercise his husbandly rights. I knew I would never overcome the death of Raoul or even forgive Erik for that matter, but I could learn to live, and be as happy as possible. I had overcome my father's death, and in time I would Raoul's.

The practice continued similar to any other rehearsal before the great fire, with the exception that we weren't actually in the opera house itself. We practiced in the auditorium on the other side of town, Erik transporting me there in his carriage. He knew exactly when to be there: he had dictated the rehearsal hours in his letter, and Messieurs Firmin and Andre knew now not to take him lightly. The anticipated end of reconstruction would be in just over four months, though everyone knew it would probably take longer. A new chandelier had been ordered with electric light fixtures so as to avoid future _accidents _of such a great magnitude, new chairs, stage construction, orchestra pit, everything in the grand central auditorium.

I exited the rehearsal location, saying goodbye to Meg as I left, but as I did so, I felt a horrible wave of nausea. Before I had the chance to expel the contents of my stomach, I felt myself break into a sweat, and collapse on the floor.

_A/N: I've said it before and I'll say it again: I know that people have a problem with Erik committing rape but I think he is quite capable of doing it, as he struggles not to do so in _Phantom._ Really, a man so passionate and out of his mind like Erik, I think this is well within his means to do._


	9. Devastation

**Christine **

"Madame, you have an extreme case of over exhaustion, and I strongly encourage you to take a break from performing for awhile. At least a month of rest in a peaceful setting will do you some good, and afterwards we will monitor your progress should you decide to come back to the theatre."

My eyes had gone wide at the doctor's prognosis. I was thankful that the ailment I had been plagued with was not more serious, however I knew that Erik would be furious when he found out what had come over me. "But doctor, surely I can come back in a few weeks, I was only unconscious for a short while."

"My dear, you have noticeably lost weight, and there are dark circles under your eyes. You are in no fit condition to be putting so much energy into rehearsing and performing. I understand that you reside in the country, so perhaps the fresh air will shorten your recovery time, but I cannot stress enough the importance of rest. Please consider your actions carefully."

I left the doctor's care feeling restless and uneasy. I found that when I was at rehearsals, it was as though I had my old life back before all of this chaos with Erik and Raoul. My poor Raoul. I found that it was extremely hard to try to overcome his death, that his young vibrant life was cut tragically short, and that in this situation it was my selfish actions that brought his untimely demise. When at our home beyond the city walls, I flitted aimlessly through the rooms, as if in a trance, somehow waiting for the day in which I would see a handsome youth gallop down the road, and to my delight I would find my childhood sweetheart riding bareback atop a noble steed. Still living in fairytales, even at the age of eighteen. I missed riding my horse around the vast acreage, the freedom I felt as I sped across the lawn and trotted down the forest paths. I had always wanted a horse as a child but father and I were too poor, and the horses at the opera house were for transportation or as props for the shows. It was too rainy today and I was in no fit condition to ride, adding to my sense of claustrophobia.

The house that Erik had purchased was grander than I could possibly have imagined, filled with expensive imported furniture and fine tapestries that rivaled the ones he had had in his old home underneath the opera house. He admitted that it was not in the best of conditions when initially sold to him, but he had commissioned the hardest working laborers to complete the job in such a short time period.

Erik was gone for the day, on site somewhere at one of his many building projects, and so I had to hail a carriage to bring me back to our estate. I climbed into the chasse and patiently sat during our brief journey out of town, tracing my fingers along the wooden windowpanes, lost in the cavernous dwelling of my memories. When the trip was over, the driver extended his hand so that I may step down, and after paying him, entered the house. However, as I began to remove my light outer garments, I suddenly had a feeling as though I were about to be sick, and barely made it to the bathroom before the contents of my stomach lurched from my mouth. I stood there for a few minutes, quivering with tears streaming down my face, before I turned on the faucet and slumped to the floor.

_"This cannot be happening,"_ I thought miserably to myself._ "Please, do not let me be with child. I will never be able to have my freedom if Erik knows I am pregnant."_ But with a grim realization, I knew it to be true: I had missed my courses, and noticed that my corset seemed to be getting tighter. Still leaning against the counter, I pulled my knees to my chest, and began to quietly sob.

* * *

**Erik **

I returned home that night to find our maid, Marine, standing in the doorway, wringing her hands. I hung up my cloak and hat, and asked her what was the matter.

"It is Madame, she appears to have been taken ill. I heard a noise in the bathroom, and when I went to see, I found her on the floor, pale and crying. She was barely conscious, and when I fetched her some water, she appeared to have a fever." The words had hardly left the little blonde girl's mouth when I raced upstairs to her room. I flung the door open, and found my wife lying motionless in the vast layers of her bed. Her hair was scattered around her as though she had been tossing a fit, and the sheets were in disarray.

"Christine!" I whispered. "Christine, it is Erik. What is the matter, my darling, please wake up."

"No, it cannot be true, Erik," she muttered in a fever-induced trance.

"What, my love, what can't be true?"

"I cannot say," she said, turning away from me.

"Christine, know that I am here for you. There is nothing you can say that would make me think anything but love for you."

"Please, Erik, please don't hurt me." She pulled the covers up around her, and I backed slowly away from the bed. Ever since that horrible day when she and the boy attempted to flee, she walked around the house as though she were a ghost. Her appearance had changed drastically, and she lost weight. She spent many of her evenings perched on the parlor window ledge, as though she were waiting for the arrival of someone, and I could only guess as to who she was thinking. Each night I tore myself apart from what I had done to her, and I could only dream of one day making things better for us.

I exited her room, and once again found Marine waiting for me. "Perhaps there is something I can do for you, Master?"

"Watch over her. She appears to be upset with me over a situation that happened long ago between us. I am afraid I do not think there is anything that she will accept from me, but perhaps you can assist her. Stay by her side, and talk to her if she needs a confidante. I hate to ask you to be a spy, but please inform me of what is spoken between the two of you. I wish to make things better, and I feel that a third person will be of great assistance."

She shuffled her feet as though she hated to be a snitch, and I understood her predicament, however I needed things to be well again. "Yes, Master," she sighed. "Though I ask that I may use some discretion if necessary.'

"I will grant you that, Marine, but anything of utmost importance, please, keep me informed." She nodded, and I strode toward my quarters, eager for a brandy and the wooden body of my musical ivory lover.

* * *

**Christine**

I awoke in my soft feather bed, to find the late afternoon sun attempting to pierce the thick powder blue curtains of my room. I rubbed my eyes, trying to remember how I had gotten in bed when I felt a familiar nauseating feeling. I grabbed the vase of flowers next to my bed, and hastily throwing the daisies on the floor, once again vomited into the etched glass container. I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my dressing gown, and shakily got to my feet to rinse myself off with a rag and water basin. Once finished, I opened my wardrobe, selecting a burgundy dress and tidied my appearance as best I was about to head downstairs when I found Marine walking up the staircase with a bowl of broth and a towel draped over her arm.

"Oh, Madame, you are awake! You have been asleep for an entire day, and I must say that you needed it, based upon the condition I found you in."

"How did I get to my room? Did Erik find me?" I asked quizzically.

"No, I had Antoine, the cook, assist you. Are you feeling better, Madame?"

Blushing, I admitted what I had done to the vase in the room, and she smiled politely, saying that she would clean it up right away. She brought the tray down to the dining room and I sat in muted silence drinking the broth while she fixed up my room. I was glad to see the sun streaming through the windows after this long streak of horrid weather, and it actually seemed to be brightening my mood. That is until Erik walked in.

"Good morning, ma cherie, I am grateful to see that you are up and well," he said as he strode towards me.

"Why are you not at the office?" I asked nervously.

"I was so distressed to find that you had collapsed that I told the workers I would not be in until you were in better health. May I join you?"

"I-I guess," I said, returning to my soup.

"Are you sure you are feeling well, Christine?"

"I am cold, that is all. I will be fine, I just needed some rest based upon the doctor's orders." He reached out his hand to touch me and I instantly drew it back as my skin made contact with his. I looked up to find an overwhelming amount of pain in his eyes, and I instantly felt guilty for withdrawing from his compassionate gesture.

"I know you cannot forgive me for what I have done to you, but I would do anything to bring the sparkle back into your eyes. You have been like a shell walking around this place for the past month, and I am tortured by the atrocities that I have inflicted upon you. If there is any hope of you ever loving me again, please let me know now so that I may continue on with my life."

"Erik…." He broke out in sobs, fearful of the dreaded answer that he was anticipating. "Erik, I can never forget what you did to me after Raoul's death," the words nearly choked in my mouth as I finally admitted aloud what fate had befallen my lover. "Nor can I forgive what you did to him, however I have made a commitment to you that I shall never break. I am still mourning and I am still recovering, and when I shy away from your touch it is because I do not want to be held. I do not know if I can ever be intimate with you again, but I will stay by your side. Allow me to continue with the opera no matter what happens, and that will be the quickest way for me to recover."

"My dearest, you know that I would never ask you to give up your singing, and I wish for us never to speak of what happened back there in the basement again. I would take everything back if I was able, but alas I must live with the anger and the hurt for the rest of my life. Please, I just wish for you to at least resemble the beautiful girl that I once knew."

"I cannot promise that, Erik, but I will try."


	10. The Descent into Hell

I hate to break it to you guys, but things will get worse before they get better, especially where Marine is concerned. Things will work out for the end, especially if you know the answer to the quote down below, but this scene is really steamy, so don't say I didn't warn you. Anyway, thanks for the reviews, and enjoy.

_

* * *

"If two people love each other, but they just can't seem to get it together, when do you get to that point of enough is enough?"-The Mexican_**

* * *

Christine**

Erik would eventually learn of my pregnancy whether I told him or not, but I was most afraid of how the child was conceived. "_Was it on the first night when we so passionately made love, or did it happen when he so angrily violated me? Would I love the child any less if I were to figure out the circumstances of their conception? Would Erik embrace this child, or demand I rid myself of this tiny little membrane of life_?" I had to tell him somehow. He was desperate to please me, to be the perfect little husband that I could ever want, and for me to be his darling innocent wife. But in my dreams at night, while he was at the other end of the hallway in his own bed, I would have haunting visions of my poor lost lover writhing in pain, bound against the portcullis, as Erik would torture him. Some nights were doubly awful, as Erik would have his way with me over and over again in scandalous, unnatural ways as Raoul looked on, horrified and helpless. I would awaken in a cold sweat, my hair damp and in painful clumps, and it was on these dreadful mornings that I would loathe seeing my husband.

I entered my personal bathroom and brushed my teeth, eager to rid myself of the filthy taste that lingered. I attempted as best I could to brush my hair, and when I felt the handle of the brush start to creak from the effort, I sought Marine to help run me a bath. She was not in any of the upstairs rooms like she should be at this time of day, so I headed downstairs and walked right into her as she exited the pantry. She looked stunned, as though she had been caught doing something wrong, but quickly recovered and as she absentmindedly wiped her mouth, asked if I needed assistance with anything.

"As a matter of fact I require some assistance bathing," I said politely.

"Right away, Madame," and I nearly had to run to catch up with her.

She helped me undress from my slightly soiled nightgown, and I gingerly set myself down in the claw-footed tub. It was quite a contrast from living in the opera house dormitories to having servants wait on you. I leaned forward as Marine gently scrubbed my back, and her voice broke me from my reverie.

"How are you feeling, Madame?"

"I am feeling better now, Marine, thank you." I hesitated before continuing. "Thank you for going along with my excuse today, I do not want my husband to know of my condition."

"And what condition is that?" She inquired boldly. I had a feeling she knew that I was pregnant, but I also knew that she was eager for some gossip.

"Surely you must have noticed that I am with child," I smiled.

Her eyes lit up and she returned the smile, although I could only guess she was happier to spread gossip around the mansion. "Madame, that is wonderful news! How does the Master feel about being a father?"

I looked away, suddenly ashamed at my selfish decision not share such news with him. "He does not know yet. I have been searching for the appropriate time in which I shall share the news with him."

"I believe he is eager for any time that you can spare to be with him. He has been very lonely in your absence, and though I have had few limited conversations with him, he appears to adore you. I would urge you to share this special news with him as soon as possible." Her blue eyes sparkled with a genuine interest, and with a refreshed vigor filling me, I hurriedly dried myself off and changed into a cheerful pink afternoon dress.

As I was about to head out the door, I saw Marine standing in the doorway of the bathroom, the damp towel folded in her hands, and a smile plastered on her face. "Thank you so much for your guidance, Marine, I hope that this will change things between Erik and I. Oh, and please do not address me so formally, you may call me Christine."

I had no idea why Marine's words filled me with springtime again, though perhaps it was good to befriend someone again. I had not seen Meg since the night Erik kidnapped me, and although I did not completely trust Marine as of yet, the little blonde maid's presence was eerily similar to that of my fellow ballet dancer. I knew that Erik loved me with all of his heart, and somewhere under the black shadow that had fallen I loved him, but maybe with the news that we were to have a child, we could proceed with our lives, starting from the very beginning.

Smiling for the third time in one day, I headed down the grand staircase that Erik had so lovingly designed himself, and searched the lower rooms for him. I found him sitting in the library, holding a flask of brandy to his lips, his hair disheveled. I carefully made my way into the room, confused at Erik's unnatural appearance, and knocked on the door softly to alert him of my presence. He waved me into the room without even glancing up at me, and said, "You may enter, Marine."

"It is I, Christine," I replied timidly. He nearly dropped the bottle on the floor as his head snapped up at the recognition of my voice.

"My love, what are you doing out of bed? You are ill, you should rest."

"Erik, I am not so ill that I could not come down here to talk to you. My behavior has been somewhat odd for the past few months, and though I am sure you understand part of it, I do not think you understand fully."

"Tell me, dearest, I am more than eager for your love."

I took a deep breath, and as I opened my mouth to form those life-altering words, a loud knock was heard on the door. Erik excused himself for a moment as I stood with my arms crossed, mildly irritated at the cause of the disturbance, and as he closed the door behind him, blowing me a kiss, I opted instead for a stroll in the garden. After all, I had another seven months to tell him of the news; a few more hours would not hurt.

**Erik**

After my scandalous rendezvous with Marine in the pantry, I decided that I needed a drink in the sanctity of my library. I slouched in the heavy leather chair, a decanter of brandy beside me. Although not much of an alcohol drinker myself, I felt that infidelity with a whoring maid was a suitable reason for it, and I proceeded to fill a nearby discarded flask with it. I loosened my cravat as it was entirely too hot in the room, and I threw my head back, dissolving my consciousness into thought. _"How could I do something so dirty, something so cheap and low? My Christine was upstairs in bed, probably heaving her internal organs into a bedpan, and there I was, in the midst of a sordid tryst with the maid amidst canned goods and sacks of potatoes."_ The truth was, and I was ashamed to even be rethinking these thoughts, when Marine proposed that we enter the bedroom and delve into the bed sheets, I would have taken her up on the offer had I not been fearful of getting caught. I had no idea what the cunning little harlot was up to, but she seemed excellent at catching me in my weakest moments. The problem was, I still needed her to find out the information for me that I so inconveniently lacked, otherwise she would find herself on the street, despite my assurance that I would do no such thing. We were lucky to have not been discovered this time, but any other _incident_ that should occur between us would infinitely increase our chances of being caught, and then all hope of reuniting with Christine would be lost forever.

I took another swig of the mind numbing nectar when I heard a soft rapping at the door and called for Marine to enter; surely no one else would speak to me in this household. I attempted as best I could to straighten my ungentlemanly appearance, andI nearly fell out of the chair when I saw Christine standing in the doorframe, pale but no less radiant, in a soft pink floral dress. Her frame seemed smaller, and I thought it unusual that her breasts seemed somehow larger, though I assumed they just appeared that way compared to the rest of her. I was overjoyed to note that she seemed in better spirits today, a faint smile present on her chapped lips.

"My love, what are you doing out of bed? You are ill, you should rest." She apologized for her strange behavior over the past few months, citing it as loneliness and depression, and mentioned that there was something else she needed to confess to me. "Tell me, dearest, I am more than eager for your love."

Her eyes fell demurely to the floor, fluttering her eyelashes and chuckling a little to herself before she raised her head and opened her mouth to speak. The words were barely formed on her lips when we heard a loud _bang_ outside the door. Christine spun around to face the door; her hands folded over her chest as I dashed passed her and flung the door open. Before my eyes I saw that Rene and Marine were fighting each other in the parlor, Marine struggling to free herself from the kitchen boy's surprisingly strong grip.

"Help me, Master, Rene has lost control of himself!" Rene, mute and unable to explain himself, ignored my entrance into the room and managed to successfully wrestle the maid to the floor, succeeding in ripping a tear in thehem of her dress.

"Rene, what is the _matter_ with you! Leave her be immediately and leave this house at once!" He stood up, dropping his hold on her likeher skin scalded his fingers, and stood before me. He mouthed _"I'm sorry," _and headed towards his room to collect his few meager belongings.

I looked back to find that Christine was no longer in the library, and assumed that she must be somewhere else in the house or on the grounds. I held out my hand to assist a sobbing Marine off the floor as she tried to maintain some modesty and hold closed her torn dress. She appeared shaky on her feet and sat her down on the couch, offering some tea.

"No thank you, but I wouldn't mind some of your brandy," she joked. I laughed and poured her a small glass, which she downed in an instant, putting most men to shame. I then asked her what had happened, and sighing, she told her version of the story.

"I had just finished drawing a bath for Madame and was tidying up the towels when Rene stormed into her bedroom unexpectedly. I ordered him out of the room as they are Madame's private quarters and only she, you and I are permitted entrance. He pushed me on her bed and started to pull my dress up with this horrific smile on his face, when I screamed and he slapped me. Having been taught by my mother how to take care of myself in these situations, I planted my foot in the very last place he would ever want it, and pushed him off me. I ran downstairs, stumbling halfway and fell into the bookcase, which is probably the noise that alerted you. I'm sorry for the mess, by the way, I will attend to it shortly." I told her not to bother, and she continued on with her story. "He caught up to me and smacked me again, calling me barely coherent names, and tore the side of my dress, which is when you came rushing out."

She began to cry, and I pulled her gently towards me and I patted her head. "It is alright, Marine, Rene has been sent away from this house forever, and if he so much as sets foot on this property again, I will make him wish he was never born."

"Master, you are so good to me. How can I repay your kindness?" she said through tear-rimmed eyes.

"It was something any decent man should have done for a woman. I will not have that kind of behavior go on in my household, I can assure you that."

She smiled and wiped away a tear streaming down the side of her nose. Then surprisingly, she gently leaned over and kissed me softly on the cheek. "You are an amazing man, Master," she whispered.

"Please, call me Erik when in private company," I whispered back.

My sanity fled as her lips violently crushed mine, her body pressed agonizingly close, and hips straddling my own. I pushed her off of me, though initially whether it was out of self-control or the urge to drag her to my bedchambers, I was unsure. But when her hand reached out to grab my hardening cock, I grabbed her hand and led her to the library, shutting the door behind us. I pushed her against the wall, ravaging her neck with wet kisses, and feeling up her leg through the convenient slit in her dress.

"_Master! Erik!"_ She panted, just as I had fantasized her saying, and I pulled the hidden lever that opened a secret panel in the wall. "Oh my!" she gasped as a hidden winding staircase was revealed, which so happened led straight to my bedchamber.

"Many old mansions had hidden passages for the masters and their mistresses to come and go without being seen. It happens to serve its purpose well in this instance." In my bedroom there was a wall panel hidden by a tapestry, and when one flicked a hidden switch tucked into the chair rail of the wainscoting, the wall moved. Upon entering our intended destination, I rushed over to the door to lock it, and spun around to find the cunning little Delilah kneeling on the bed, her back to me, urging me to unhook the buttons of her dress. I yanked the buttons off the dress since it was ruined beyond repair anyway, and assured her that a new one would be given to her immediately.

"Could you make it a little shorter, Master, I found that the long hem prevented me from certain aspects of my job," she winked, and I hungrily took her mouth with mine. She moaned, a wonderfully sweet feminine sound, and my member hardened with the knowledge that I spurned these reactions in her. Her dress came off, leaving her only in her chemise and stockings, and urgently freeing her from those, reveled in the sight of her nakedness. Her breasts were full with large nipples, splendid in their uniqueness, and her body was slightly plump. She tugged at my shirt and waistcoat, quickly tossing them on the floor, and after tearing off my shoes and socks, her eyes lit up when it came time to remove my trousers. "Oh, Master, I eagerly look forward to pleasing you again. You are quite well endowed, and I know I shall derive pleasure from you."

"I am eager to please you, Mademoiselle," I breathed as she began to kiss my naked chest.

She lay me down upon the bed, and climbing into my lap, straddled me, my engorged member resting in her hands. I thought she was going to do to me what had happened earlier, when suddenly she lifted her hips up and impaled herself upon my swollen shaft, moaning loudly as she did so. I myself could not stifle a moan, and I drank in the sight of her, sitting there with her head thrown back, her eyes closed and her mouth open. When she came back to reality, she began to grind herself against me, her body welcoming my manhood as it pressed along the ridges of her insides.

"You feel amazing inside me," she breathed. Her lips found mine as she stretched herself across me, and grabbing my hips began to surge forward over and over. I grabbed her behind, the flesh tender and soft in my calloused hands, and I pushed her increasingly harder upon my member. She began to cry out, calling meby my titleand by my given name, and I fought the urge to roll her over and pound as hard as I could into her yielding warmth.

Suddenly she sat up, slowing her motions but still keeping a gentle rocking rhythm of her hips. "Erik, I want to try something new with you."

"Ok."

She gently slid off my cock, now bathed in a sheen of juices, and turned herself over so that she was on her hands and knees, her backside in the air. I was puzzled as to why she would want me to reduce her to something like this, taking her as if she were an animal, but hesitantly agreed to try something new. I knelt behind her, her hand gently guiding me to her entrance, and a new rush of feelings filled me as I penetrated her in this new, debauched position.

"You hit the sensitive spot that brings me to climax," she said matter-of-factly, and I did not argue.

I began to ram into her, my mind lost to the intense sensations coursing through me as I controlled her, dominated her. She grabbed the headboard, desperate to cling on to something, and her cries of passion were what ultimately brought me to my long sought release. She squeezed her feminine walls around me as I spurted my seed into her, both of us reaching our peaks at the same time before I withdrew and fell in a boneless heap upon the bed. She lay next to me, her blonde hair appearing darker as it was wet with sweat, her breasts tantalizingly rising and falling as she gasped for air. I had no idea how long we had been going at it, but the time seemed too short for what it was worth. Marine maintained her distance from me, happy to show little displays of affection, but ultimately knowing her role as a quick bedmate rather than a lover or mistress.

We lay there only long enough to catch our breath before we stood up andtugge onour clothes. She planted a chaste kiss on my cheek as she straightened her hair, and unlocking the door, exited the room without looking back.

I sat on the edge of the bed, retying my shoes, and though the splendorous sex was amazing, I could not help but wonder what the Hell I had just done.

* * *

I know that Marine and Erik…had fun in the pantry, and then they went off into the bedroom shortly after, it's not entirely realistic and sorry, I couldn't really think of a better way to work around it. I may rewrite this chapter, depending on whatyou readers/reviewersthink, so please feel free to give your input. Erik has to hook up with the maid in this story (sorry, E/C shippers, it's only for a few chapters), but if you want me to spread it out over a period of time, let me know.

PS: Possibly looking for a beta for my other story _Beyond the Façade_, a love story about Erik and Madame Giry. Anybody interested, let me know!


	11. Author's Note

It's been several years since I've published this story (to the point that I don't even know how to navigate Word on my laptop!) but over time I have really been dissatisfied with how it turned out. It really strayed from the original plot. I've contemplated for some time re-writing it but up until now, I really haven't had the time.

I'll be removing the chapters that I'm not happy with and will be replacing them, effectively changing several plot points of the story. I'm also in the midst of very minor changes to the other chapters. Please bear with me as I may not have regular updates, and as always, thank you for taking the time to read this little endeavor.


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